The Empire's Triumph: Bid For Information
by ScaredOfPostingAFanFic
Summary: In the time of the Great Galactic War, a newly promoted and ambitious Moff joins a power-base dedicated to protecting The Sith Empire. When resources come into question a daring invasion is planned for Hoth, however crucial intelligence must first be gathered - a task more daunting than this Moff had first anticipated.
**Author Note: I am terribly sorry for the very long delay between me releasing the next chapter; I have had a lot of work to be getting on with and personal issues that I needed to resolve before continuing. IF you're reading this note, thank you for your time. P.S. To those that don't know, this novel is set during the Old Republic Era, or, more precisely, in 3637 BBY.**

 **Prologue**

 _Moff_. It would sound more appealing with a _Grand_ preceding it, but this was still progress. Vessik held his hands firmly behind his back, casting his gaze on the Minister of War; the short and balding yet strong and revered Minister examined Vessik thoroughly, before making a declaration. "Major Vessik Klassa; in the name of The Empire, its people, and our Sith despots, I bestow upon you the rights and responsibilities of the position Moff."

Vessik bowed his head respectfully, then lifting it again as he extended his hand to the Minister; "Thank you..." He paused, surveying the Minister's countenance. "What responsibilities shall I now uphold?"

The Minister met Vessik's hand with his own, exhibiting a rather tight grip, as he relayed: "A full repertoire of your duties has been forwarded to you, I don't have the time to explain them at this moment." Pressing his hands onto the desk in front of him, the Minister continued: "Uphold your duties, and serve your masters; the Empire shall reward you for it. Dismissed."

"Very well."

Above all others in the military, the Minister of War had the power that Vessik strived to achieve, the power to shape the lives of Imperials through his very actions; Vessik envied him. One last glance at the Minister was enough to convince Vessik that perhaps one day he could replace him, take his ironed uniform and balding scalp to be claimed as his own. _Vessik Klassa, Minister of War._ Ambition was what had lead him this far, to abandon it now would be foolish, yet now he had a position from which he could display power, a position from which he could attempt to rid the Empire of the Sith and improve the lives of the Imperials that he had pledged himself to.

Vessik turned and left the room, maintaining his natural formality beyond the meeting, and sought out the nearest seat; now sitting, he held his head in his hands as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Nineteen years of service had afforded him the honour of becoming a Moff, and now such was all he had; unnaturally calm and without anyone he would label closer than colleague, everything had paid off. For a while he sat there, assessing whether this was all worth it, whether he could have spent his life in a manner more preferable; for some this might be with a wife and children, with friends and relatives, yet Vessik possessed nothing of the sort. Formality was his aesthetic, and his outlook: melancholy.

He sighed, lifting his head from his hands, and stood. Everybody had gone by now, so it seemed he had been perched there for longer than he anticipated; now could he really experience the true size of the hall in which he was sat, the red banners that lined the dull grey walls, and the echo that the contact of his cybernetic foot with the floor resonated. The room was cold, and devoid of personality, influencing Vessik's departure from its emptiness; he strode through the orderly corridors, one of which lead him to his office. Upon the entrance to his office now hung a plaque labelled "Moff Vessik Klassa"; a comfort for it signified his success and also the new level of power he could exert, yet it was also disconcerting, for it also whispered remembrance to all that he had forsaken.

An alert rang from the holoterminal, its monotone could be heard multiple times as it called for the little warmth that his hand could provide. Heeding its call, Vessik approached the terminal and pushed the flickering red button; within that instance the room became dimly lit by its activation, a hooded figure several feet tall making his mark on a room he was otherwise absent from. Vessik grimaced at the sight of such a being, a creature who's very nature was selfish and based around petty displays of power. It was a Sith Lord.

"To whom am I speaking?" Vessik asked, curling his lip slightly.

"I am Darth Tartorian." The figure replied, calm and precisely.

"And what do you want...?" Disrespect danced upon Vessik's tongue and he provided it with free reign.

"I wish for you to serve. Not me, but the Empire." These words carried authority, yet not to a tyrannical extent. They were enticing, was this perhaps a Sith that had realised the wrong in its selfish demeanour and realised a greater goal than its own self-indulgence?

"Where would I be stationed?" Vessik asked eagerly, although in a controlled manner.

"Dromund Kaas; I have sent you the co-ordinates, if you do not show then I will ask another. Decide." The hologram vanished with this final line. Vessik smirked. A Sith that had given _him_ not a command but a request, this was a rare sight indeed, and perhaps one that should be approached with caution.

Was this the opportunity he had always sought, or perhaps that which would evolve into it? A position from which he would be capable of improving the lives of many an Imperial, a position from which he could gain influence, and one in which even _he_ would be respected by his foul masters. While all else was mere speculation, one certainty stood: Vessik _despised_ Sith. He could not stand their incompetent inefficiency at productively utilizing their strength, nor could he begin to fathom their uncontrolled anger-infused frenzies that they had the audacity to call power, and, above all else, he _loathed_ their treatment of the very staples of the glorious Empire: its people.


End file.
